Of Their Dreams
by XSilverLiningsX
Summary: Even the strongest warriors dream of their lost homes and hearts, although the memories themselves fade in time along with the pain.
1. Lann

**1. Remembrance**

Sometimes, Lann dreams. It doesn't happen often, usually when he's bone-tired and on the brink of collapsing face-first onto his cot, but when he does it's centered around a woman whose name and face frustratingly slips away every time. He knew, in the depths of his soul, that the woman wasn't any ordinary woman, nor any of his trusted comrades, but he just couldn't figure her out.

When he wakes up he doesn't fully remember the contents of the dream, but there's always a trace of _something_ lingering at the back of his mind; he faintly recalls a certain type of perfume or sees the tumbling locks of thick hair being swept over a clothed shoulder. Rarely, Lann is treated to a flash of a soft but beautiful smile that fills him up from the inside with a kind of warmth he hasn't felt in years.

Those small flashes make him feel like a young and naïve child all over again as he reaches out with tiny, hesitant fingers in hopes of touching, feeling, _discovering_ who this special person was to him.

It isn't until one night that he finally remembers, a name—_no, not a name, a title_ at the tip of his tongue as he jerks awake, wide-eyed and sweat cooling on his body. Pent up energy is buzzing in his ears as he finally, _finally_, remembers:

_Mother_.


	2. Fiona

**2. Fireworks**

Fiona, although she wouldn't admit it out loud, dreams frequently. Most of the time it was of complete and utter nonsense that didn't make sense no matter the amount of squinting and head twisting she did in the wee hours of darkened, early mornings in her cot. She remembers each detail of her dreams perfectly; sometimes there were drab shapes flitting this way and that, other times there were bold explosions of colors and sounds akin to fireworks.

It didn't take long for her to wonder that someone she had once held close to her heart loved to play with the very same fireworks she heard in her dreams. Fiona hadn't been born a mercenary and enjoyed a brief childhood similar to many others who were fortunate, but there was always that one constant from before.

Fiona does not remember his face, nor his name, but she does remember the feelings of sheer elation and joy taking over her child-like soul whenever the sticks of gunpowder, lovingly crafted by a pair of large but steady hands that were heavily calloused, would soar up into the skies before exploding in a vibrant display of reds, yellows, and blues.

It isn't until she watches one of her comrades attempt to craft a piece of armor from a sheet of scrap metal that she realizes that she does know the identity of the man she constantly dreams of:

_Father_.


	3. Evie

**3. Covet**

Evie, when her acute mind is too tired to fend off sleep, dreams of nothing and everything, which is just the way she likes it. She considers herself lucky that most of the dreams she has are of a calm darkness that encases her in a protective shell, akin to her magic shield, and keeps her far from the depths of her frightening, unconscious mind.

There are a few exceptions that slip past her mental shields, once in a while. Without an ounce of shame, Evie can and will admit that she had a few pleasant dreams involving a few of her comrades and a handful of other terrifying nightmares of Fomors and death that would string her nerves up so tight that it would be impossible to sleep for following two days.

However, there are two dreams that she takes to heart and adamantly refuses to share with anyone else, not even her best friend ; the dreams were from before her time as a mercenary, and therefore she felt that they were too personal to explain. But, deep in the recesses of her broken heart, she knew it would be the only two she would ever have. The first was before she met _him_, and the last was when she saw _him_ leave her forever alone in this cruel, bloody world.

She remembers exactly his charming accent that drawled on certain words, his gentle hands that firmly held onto her own in times of emotional hardship, and his enchanting eyes whose warmth and affection that was reserved only for her alone. She remembers _him_, in the dead of night, and sheds a silent tear for her foolishness:

_Lover_.


	4. Karok

**4. Memory**

Karok dreams not in color, but in black and white and _grays_ because the world he is accustomed to seems to be that way, so it is only fair that it reflects in the sanctity of his inner world as well.

Sometimes his dreams hold the key to a door that he doesn't want to open, _but he does anyways because he isn't one to cower from a weakness_, while others bring forth a memory of something fun and so remarkable and noteworthy that Karok never, ever, wants to forget if he can help himself.

There was one memory in particular of his youth as his father calmly lead him to the middle of their campsite. His deep voice, roughened by the trials he had faced from the world, was hushed and although Karok no longer can remember what words he had said, there was nothing more worldly and awe-inspiring as his father carefully handing his newborn sibling to him, his trust in him deep enough to allow him _to hold _the precious babe_._ His mother, her face gaunt and tired but _glowing_ with relief, whispered words that were eclipsed by the howling winds of the barren plains.

As Karok sleepily blinks awake on his cot, the twin moons glowing softly from the dark night sky above, he muses on the thought of that while his birth parents and younger sibling were long gone from this earthly plane, he wouldn't trade his new "_siblings_" for anything else in the world:

_Kindred_.


	5. Kai

**5. Promise**

Kai, in spite of all his anger at the world, finds solace in his dreams as they put his tense body at ease and takes his mind far away from his dangerously dark and consuming thoughts of hatred and vengeance.

Just as he is never one to idle while the raw power of his animosity crawled annoyingly in the marrows of his bones, his dreams are just as harrowing and grim as his countenance. On some nights, he might just be lucky enough to dream of nothing but the back of his eyelids, but Kai counts those dreams as his worst ones. The darkness continues to suffocate him just like it had suffocated his Other, so he prefers his dreams to have life to them even if it means they consist mostly of splattered blood, dangling bits of gore, and the rot of death's fingers looming from above.

To Kai, his reality is the best dream because it keeps him grounded and _sane_. Without his anger, his last remaining tether to his own person, he would be just as dead as his Other. He would be doomed to a life wandering like a lost soul without a purpose, because without his Other he is only half of a soul.

Tired and exhausted, Kai stares into the twisting, dancing, _crackling_ flames of the campfire and clenches his shaking hands into a white-knuckled grip around his bow before promising, silently, that he will have his revenge on the darkness that took away half of his soul and sanity in this life, or the next:

_Twin_.


End file.
